Be_Compromised

A community for fans of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff aka Hawkeye and Black Widow, as individuals and together, and the wider marvel universe. We track #be_compromised and #clintasha Comminity also on discord and dreamwidth. AO3 tag: community: be_compromised

[be-compromised]

Welcome to be_compromised!

Also on Discord and Dreamwidth.

We're a community for fans of Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye and Natasha Romanov AKA Black Widow both as individuals and together, as well as the broader Marvel Universe (MCU, comics, TV, and games), which started on LiveJournal in 2012 and migrated over to Dreamwidth in May 2017. All types of fanwork are welcome

Our Discord server (link on how to join) which is where the majority of fannish interaction happens now. Dreamwidth serves primarily as the hub for community events and exchanges, as well as a record of important announcements. We also use the Community: be_compromised tag on AO3 as a way to collate fics written for and by the community and we have a masterlist tag for comm events.

If you would like to join us here at be_compromised, welcome! We're excited to meet you. We just ask that you adhere to the rules below, which are the result of policy discussions between mods and community members over the years. They apply to both community members and anyone who takes part in any of our community events.

Also, if you do decide to join our community or even just take part in community exchanges, please add your name to the Community Username Database. It will help the mods immensely, and ensures you are correctly credited when crossposting masterlists across platforms.

The Rules

1. Be kind. This is a positive fandom space. If you cannot be kind to your fellow community members, then this is not the space for you.

2. Bigotry will not be tolerated. We aim to be a friendly and inclusive fandom space, accepting people regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, political views, or any other characteristic. If you have any issues with another person in the comm, or if you have been made to feel unsafe or unwelcome by a member, please reach out to the mods. We will do what we can to help.

3. Plagiarism will not be tolerated. We are interested in what YOU create, in what YOU put your time and effort into, not your ability to copy and paste what someone else has put time and effort into. If someone should post a story or other fanwork which has been plagiarised (meaning, the use of another person’s work in any way without their permission and credit), then that person will be banned from this community. We do not issue warnings for this.

4. Character bashing and ship wars are an assassinable offence. As long as focus remains on Clint Barton and/or Natasha Romanov, any pairings or characters are welcome. Just because a character or pairing isn't your favourite, doesn't mean they're not someone else’s. Don't harsh on others' squee.

5. This is not the space for Real Person Fanfic (RPF) or speculation on the personal lives of MCU actors or their families.

6. Place anything Not Safe For Work (NSFW) behind a cut or a link, or warn for it in advance some way. Some members are under 18, some members have small inquisitive children, some people might check the comm on their work break. It doesn't matter the reason, please warn for anything you'd class as Mature or Explicit on AO3.

7. Either tag your fanwork warnings appropriately, or Choose Not To Warn (CNTW). The minimum required for a fanwork posted to this community is a rating (film rating definitions are very helpful, or you can use AO3's system) and warnings. If you're worried about spoilering your work through your warnings, you can Choose Not To Warn or hide your warnings (see useful links below for ways to do this). But you must do one or the other. General warnings to consider are Character Death, Graphic Violence, Rape/non-con, Dub con, Underage, and Graphic injury/illness/trauma, but any warnings you feel necessary should be tagged for. If, as a reader, you would like clarification regarding a tag or the content of a fanwork, most creators are happy to provide additional information regarding their works. Mods can be contacted if you feel a work has been tagged incorrectly, but do be aware that we only have the ability to moderate content here and on our Discord. If the work is hosted on AO3, we are unable to do anything about the author's choice of tags. 

Community AI Policy: We at be_compromised consider AI generated content to be a form of plagiarism and do not want it as part of our community experience. However, as AO3 has yet to come out with a definitive policy regarding the use of AI, the most we can ask of users crossposting AI generated works from AO3 to here or our Discord using the Community: be_compromised tag, is that you please tag your work as AI generated so people are aware of this. We also acknowledge that AI images are not always easy to spot, so while we will definitely appreciate your best efforts to tag for such things when making recs lists or crossposting from tumblr, we understand that catching everything is not possible. We do not want to deter people from sharing recs.

Handy Links

The ratings guide used by the Motion Picture Association of America (how most things are rated and generally why)

AO3 Content Rating System: a guide to AO3 ratings and warnings

About AO3 tags and tagging, AKA how do I tag for Avengers This was last updated in 2014 but is still a really good explanation on the AO3 tagging system and how it works.

Three different AO3 collections for HTML, coding and Custom Site Skins (CSS): (1) A Guide to Coding and Fanworks (2) Fanfiction Reference Works (3) HTML & CSS stuffs

A HTML guide for Dreamwidth

How to create a Read More cut on Dreamwidth

How to create a cut tag/expand option on Dreamwidth (this also works on AO3)

How to make DW text the same colour as the background behind it so people have to highlight the text to be able to read it

If you have any queries, if you're unsure about anything, or if you have any problems please message us here or a mod. Your mods are: inkvoices and gsparkle (AKA quidnunc-life), with franztastisch (AKA CloudAtlas) helping out. We're all available across all platforms be_compromised operates on, but the fastest way to get a reply is to message us on Discord.

Thanks for reading!

Your Mods

[stasiachan14]

Clintasha's Morning Routine... Coffee.... 😂

My job is to keep in the forefront of your mind from time to time how we were robbed of Clintasha. You're welcome. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[have-you-read-these-comics]

Hawkeye (2012)

(Hawkeye (Vol. 2) - Issues #1-22; Annual #1)

Written by Matt Fraction

Art by David Aja (Issues #1-13, 15, 17, 19, 21-22)

Art by Annie Wu (Issues #8, 14, 16, 18, 20)

Art by Javier Pulido (Annual #1)

Marvel Comics - Oct. 2012 -Sep. 2015

Have you read Hawkeye (2012)?

Yes

No

In My "To Read" Pile

I've Never Heard of this Comic

Remaining time: 5 days 4 hours

Submitted by @void-of-unparalleled-chaos

[gunsandspaceships]

How to Use Russian Names. Instruction for Marvel Studios

#1. Do not use OFF in Russian surnames.

The use of the suffix -off instead of -ov/ova in Russian surnames is an outdated form of French transliteration.

It was used in the 19th and early 20th centuries by Russian emigrants in Europe and the United States, but is no longer used (yes, for several decades now). So unless the character comes from a family that immigrated due to the Russian Revolution (1917–23) or earlier, giving them -off instead of ov/ova doesn't make sense.

How these Russian surnames actually work: there are a few different suffixes in Russian surnames. The most common are -in/ina (e.g. Kalinin/Kalinina) and -ov/ova (e.g. Smirnov/Smirnova). Why two options for each: in Russian, words change according to gender. So typical Russian surnames (with the aforementioned suffixes) have options for each traditional gender: ov/in for males and ova/ina for females.

Example: Natasha Romanoff shouldn't be a Romanoff at all. She's not from a family of immigrants who came to the United States in 1918. She was born in Russia. Her legal last name on her birth certificate is "Romanova." That's her correct last name.

P.S. No, there is no information that she officially changed her name after defecting from the Red Room. This is simply a gap in the knowledge of people working at Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. It is long overdue for this error to be corrected. Also note that Yelena's last name is Belova, not Beloff.

The same applies to another victim of this absurdity - Melina Vostokoff. She is Vostokova.

What about other suffixes that we see in Russian characters? They are also used, but less common and usually indicate foreign origin (for example, -ko indicates Ukrainian origin), and some of them are not gender differentiated.

By the way, "Vanko" is a made-up name derived from the Russian name "Ivan" that is overused in the US. It sounds weird to a Russian speaker. Please, don't make up names. At least Google the real ones.

#2. Use short names.

Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov... They are always called by their full names: "Yelena" and "Alexei". Even among family and friends.

In the real world it would not be like this. In Eastern Europe, people use shortened versions of names more often than full ones. "Natasha" is a "shortened" version of "Natalia". It is not a different name. The same applies to Yelena. The shortened version of the name is "Lena". This is what her friends and family would call her. Or those who do not respect her very much, like Dreykov. Alexei's shortened name is "Lyosha" (Melina would call him this) or "Lekha" (his male pals would most likely use this version).

By the way, Marvel put the stress in the name "Alexei" incorrectly. It's not AlExei, it's AlexEi.

Here are other variations of the name Natasha that can be used: "Nat", "Nata", "Natalie", "Natashka".

For Yelena: "Lenka", "Lenochka".

But be careful when using versions whose specifics you are not familiar with.

In addition: in official settings among Russians, patronymics are used. For example, Ivan Antonovich Vanko or Natalia Alianovna Romanova (by the way, Alian is also not a real Russian name).

P.S. Natasha's real father's name was Ivan, so it would be more correct to use Natalia Ivanovna Romanova and forget about this terrible "Alian".

#3. Learn surnames other than those of famous people.

It's not only Marvel's issue, but of other companies too (recall Chekov from Star Trek, for example).

Stop using names like Rasputin, Tolstoy, Chekhov, Dostoevsky, Lermontov, etc. for Russian characters in movies. When Russian speakers hear these names, they think they are watching, for example, Russian mafia AU with famous writers of the 19th-20th centuries. It's just ridiculous. These are not common Russian names. Google more common ones, those that gang members might have (but try to avoid the most common, like Ivanov, because they are overused).

And no, changing one letter won't fix it.

#4. Avoid rare and foreign names.

Marvel uses too many names for Russian characters that aren't actually Russian. Often they're made up or so rare that you'd never hear them in the country itself.

I have already mentioned a few made-up names, such as Vanko or Alian. Illyana is another one (the mutant Magik). Names like Melina or Antonia are real, but not of Russian origin and are not commonly used in Russia (instead, there are local versions of them, such as "Antonina").

In conclusion: I don't really understand how these mistakes came about. It's not that there weren't enough Russians in the States to ask how to use elements specific to a particular country in comics and movies. Rather, it's the abundance of indifference and laziness. Remember, it's always better to ask an expert for help than to do simple things wrong and make a fool of yourself.

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest - Day 6

(3k / warnings for a brief interrogation scene like the one in the avengers / a/n this fic didn’t come out the way I wanted but no use flogging a dead horse so you get what you get lol, 5+1 fic)

If you don’t change direction, you may end up where you were heading.

(5+1)

1/ In which Clint needs his hearing checked.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Natasha grumbles.

“Shit.”

Her phone reads 20% battery and she bolts around the corner.

“Fucking run Clint,” she growls as he stops to look back.

“How much battery does your phone have?”

He looks back and yells.

“None! It got smashed and it’s bricked.”

“Shit,”she says again.

“How much further!?”

“It’s just around the corner,” he yells back.

“Sure,” she mutters, breathing heavily.

“Are they still behind us?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Look!” He advises, as she looks back, her eyes rolling as two guards yell in Croatian and demand that they stop.

“Yep, still there, move faster Clint,” she shouts.

“Down here.”

He turns sharply down a small lane, almost making her lose her footing as he bounds forward, his left leg lifts and he jumps to grab onto the emergency ladder pulling it down.

She nods in agreement, helping him pull it down.

He climbs first, then pulls her up, she swings the bag over her shoulder, securing it tightly.

He tries to talk but it gets caught in his throat as he gulps down a breath.

“Nothing… like… a quick escape.”

She scoffs and nods.

“We have to move.”

“This should be the exit to the bakery,” he tells her, moving forward, opening the wire door tentatively.

“This escape, seems to have saved me twice,” he tells her patting the door.

The bakery is small, the entrance appearing almost as they walk through the exit.

Natasha wipes the sweat, and sighs.

“That was too close.”

“No shit,” he replies.

“I said the alarm would go off,” she tells him, hitting his arm annoyed.

“No, you said the alarm was off,” Clint replies.

She frowns.

“You know how we talked about getting your hearing assessed? Yeah, we should totally do that.”

Clint rolls his eyes.

“It’s not my fault that last month in Algeria that the bomb went off almost in my face.”

“No, but the resulting hearing loss was yours to follow up.”

He frowns in annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He stops and buys a croissant and looks to Natasha who shakes her head, he shrugs and holds up two fingers.

The lady packages them and hands them over.

Clint sighs and pays and motions for Natasha to leave.

“What now?”

She watches as he pulls out one of the croissants and munches.

“Now we get this, to the safe hub,” she replies pointing to her bag.

.

2/ Irish Goodbye

“Do you know what an Irish goodbye is?”

Clint looks at him, pulling down at his tie as he tries to make room for his neck.

“Do you know penguin suits suck?”

Tony cocks his head.

“Oh,” Clint rolls his eyes, “I thought we were just asking rhetorical questions.

They both smile.

“I was just going to tell you that Natasha has left, again.”

Clint looks around and finds he’s likely right. She’s nowhere immediately found and if he’s honest with himself, he probably knows where she’s gone.

“She is one for an Irish goodbye,” Clint muses, leaning back on the large column, spotting Steve talking to Maria, Bruce sitting on the couch, and Pepper talking to man that Clint thinks looks important.

“Why?”

Tony takes a step forward.

“Why wouldn’t she want to hang out with us here?”

Clint shrugs.

“It’s hard, maybe.”

“What’s hard about being at a party?”

Clint doesn’t think he could put it into words the difficulty Natasha might face being at a party with friends versus all the parties that required her to be someone else, do things that she was trained for, and how disconcerting it might be for her. Triggering even.

“Maybe a party is just a party to you, but for her it’s different.”

He frowns.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to hang out with us?”

“Maybe she has better things to do?”

Tony smiles at that.

“Probably.”

Clint shrugs.

“You can ask her tomorrow, we have that mission debrief, remember?”

Tony pulls at his own tie, sighing lightly his face grim, he also looks around, checking on everyone before his gaze rests on Pepper.

“Yeah about that…”

“Nah, you don’t get to bail,” Clint tells him, a hint of a growl in his voice.

Tony gives him a sideways grin.

“Maybe I’ll take a page out of Natasha’s book and come and then leave and not tell anyone.”

Clint scoffs a laugh at that.

“Sure, Tony,” he smiles.

3/ bored, now.

Arms tied behind her back, she can feel the pressure on her shoulders.

Annoyingly, she feels her hair on her face, sticking to the sweat and blood that lay there.

If she can just get her thumb out, she knows that she can free herself.

The way they’ve tied her up it’s not the most escapable but she does feel that they have put effort into it.

“Black widow,” they’d taunted, and she’d laughed in their faces.

Two.

There were two of them.

She rolls her eyes.

This was literally child’s play.

With no change to her facial expression, she uses one hand to dislocate her thumb on the other hand and pushes it through the knot.

“What was your plan?” she taunts,

“Drug me? Tie me up? And then we all wait?”

They look at her from where they are sitting, and she continues, making an effort to not seem like she’s doing anything and they keep their eyes on her face. Or her cleavage.

She didn’t care.

“We’re just sitting here? Why?”

One man scoff and the other leans forward.

“We wait,” he confirms.

“Ah, American,” she confirms.

He looks chagrined.

“CIA? Or something different?”

He looks away at her guess.

She’s almost out of her restraints, but now she’s interested.

“CIA?”

The other man looks pissed.

“Well Mr. CIA, what is it that you want?”

She holds up her hands to show them she’s free, resetting her thumb in front of them.

One of them looks away, and she laughs at his squeamishness.

“If you wanted to talk, you could have just asked.”

He shakes his head and looks to his friend.

“Not us, whore.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses one leg over the other.

“Then who?”

She enunciates the words slowly, in mocking.

One stands coming to far into her personal space.

Annoyed, she punches him in the nuts, he keeps over and she follows it with a chop to the throat, and swift punch to his carotid artery.

He’s out before he hits the ground.

“I’m bored of this,” she announces to the man, who now stands staring at his friend.

“They want to talk to you about what you learned in Venezuela.”

His voice has the edge of hysteria.

Clearly, these men are not at the hop of any sort of hierarchy.

Whoever they were waiting for she doesn’t particularly want to stick around for.

“I’m bored of this,” she repeats.

“Move.”

He shakes his head, looking to the door.

“He’ll be here soon,” the man starts, his voice calmer.

Natasha is standing now.

“Talk to Director Fury,” she taunts.

“He can tell you what…”

The door opens and a man in a suit walks through it.

“Your reputation precedes you,” he says to her.

His voice is low, an edge to it she doesn’t like.

There is a window behind her, they’re only on the first floor. He’s now blocking the door, and for some reason, she thinks he’d be harder to take down than two of the others in front of her.

“Yours doesn’t,” she replies.

He looks down at the man lying prostate between them.

“He called me a whore,” she states, kicking him again.

It’s met with a groan, and she takes a step back.

He’s six foot five at least.

He steps forward.

“Your supposed to tied up, but I suppose we can talk like this.”

She shrugs.

“You can call me Mr. Black. I represent a subsection of the CIA. We need your information of which I know you have from your recent mission in Venezuela,” he starts.

“It’s been cleared with your director.”

She scoffs.

“Really?”

He smiles.

It’s not kind.

“Really,” he lies.

Another step back.

“What’s the mission name?”

“Blackfriar.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Natasha feels the stir of wrongness and the cage closing in. He’s correct, and only four people know that information.

“Why do you want to know?”

“We have our reasons.”

There’s a mole in shield, feeding information to the CIA. She’s not sticking around anyway, to find out if tying her up and calling her names is all they’ll do for information.

If she gives them the intel, she could be easily framed. And who would they believe? Someone in shield or her, a defective KGB operative?

“Okay,” she smirks.

“Okay,” he replies.

Natasha raises her hands in surrender and runs and jumps out the glass window.

4/ with friends like these, who needs enemies?

“Pepper!!”

Natasha sees her friend standing in the middle of the hall, the look on her face one of shock.

“Pepper!! Run!”

Finally, her voice seems to break through the haze and she crumples to the floor, the secondary explosion hitting the café as Natasha sprints toward her friend.

“Get up!” she shouts, reaching her and pulling her arm.

“Come on!”

She drags her forward, the heat and debris around them, and the shouting of others breaking through.

“Pepper, are you hurt?!”

There’s blood on Natasha’s hand but she can’t tell if it’s her own or Peppers.

Angrily, she pulls them forward, finding a cover that seems to be safer.

Her comms are shot, but she doesn’t want to take them out of her ear just in case To y can get them up and running again.

The electromagnetic pulse had hit first, then the first bomb, she can’t believe they thought it would be safe for Pepper to come.

“I’m okay,” she hears, but it comes a second after she’s already started to vigorously pat down the shorter woman, checking for injuries.

“I’m okay, Nat, promise,” she tries to give a smile, but it comes out watery.

“We need to go,” Natasha replies, trying to give her a smile back, “the others will be waiting.”

“Tony?” Pepper asks, her voice to hopeful.

“I’m sure,” Natasha nods.

In her heart she’s not though, she’s worried, about Tony; Steve and Clint.

Her heart clenches.

Rendezvous point was the back of the building, so it’s where she leads Pepper. They don’t talk.

Both lost in their thoughts.

Her heart beats fast as she sees Clint first; then Tony.

Pepper runs fast and he runs toward her.

“Pep!”

“I’m okay,” she preempts.

Clint is more guarded, staring at Natasha, taking her all in, knowing she won’t ever say how she really is in front of people.

All he has is clues.

She does the same.

“I’m okay,” he mouthes.

She nods, lips pursed.

“Steve?”

Both Tony and Clint shake their heads.

“We don’t know, we lost him after the second explosion. We think he tried to save as many civilians as he could, but…”

She doesn’t respond.

She saw the casualties.

“Hydra?”

Tony nods.

“We think so.”

“What now?”

Clint steps forward, and motions to the exits.

“We wait? Or leave?”

“We need to finish this,” Tony starts, “but you can’t stay.”

Pepper doesn’t even protest.

“I can help,” she tells them, “but I need a computer.”

“You can find Steve?”

She shakes her head.

“No, but I can run interference and get onto my contacts in Berlin.”

Clint shrugs, “I can get you into a building.”

Tony motions to Natasha’s ears.

“Give me your comms.”

She does without asking.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he asks.

She looks from Tony to Clint to Pepper.

“I’ll be back,” she nods to all of them.

Clint looks at her appalled.

“No.”

“Twenty minutes,” she nods to Tony. “If I’m not back, I’m either dead, or captured.”

Clint rolls his eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“If Steve is out there, injured or needs some help, I’ll find him, bring him back, or come back and get you all.”

Tony grunts.

“Fine. Twenty minutes but you come back.”

He takes his analogue watch off and sets a timer.

“Twenty minutes,” Clint reiterates.

“You have your own mission,” she grins.

He looks at her seriously.

“Be careful.”

She nods once and takes off back into the fray.

5/ +1

Clint watches her closely. The way she talks to Steve and then to Pepper, the smile she wears and the gentle tuck of hair behind her ear.

He can see the slight bruise on her cheek, even though he knows she’s covered it in make up, and he’s not sure if it’s just because he knows it’s there that he can see it.

She glances at him.

Smiles.

It’s all fake.

There’s something she’s not telling him. Something on her mind, and despite his gentle prodding, she’s not giving him anything.

He heads to the kitchen and finds Tony staring into the fridge.

“Hungry?” he asks.

Tony nods, not looking his way.

“I just don’t want any more Doritos. Maybe something fresh would be better.”

Clint laughs at that.

“What’s in there?”

Tony closes the door.

“Nothing.”

Clint follows him to the table. In the corner of his eye he sees Natasha heading for the door; and he starts upright again.

“Umm, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He rounds on her; finding her standing at the lift, moving from foot to foot, uncharacteristically fidgeting.

“Nat?”

She stops.

Turns to face him and waits.

“You’re leaving?”

It takes a moment for her to reply, but he’s better at waiting than her.

The sniper in him watches all her tells.

The way she looks to him, and to their friends behind him.

The lift pulls up and dings, but neither of them move.

“You don’t… want to stay?”

She bites her lip.

“I… I’m attached to them. I… they’re my… friends and I think, Clint…”

She sighs. The flight closes and she presses the button to open it again.

“I’ll let them down. I’m not good. They’re better off, better if I have a distance and they’re just friends and I’m just me, over here.”

He stares.

“What?”

It’s said with disbelief but it comes out as harsh. The growl that follows he can’t stop, because it’s so stupid.

“You’re wrong.”

She flinches.

“I’m not made for people. You know that. I need to leave.”

He steps forward, the frown still on his face as he contemplates how to convince her she’s an idiot.

“TONY.”

He yells loud and it draws the attention of everyone.

Natasha stares.

“What are you doing?” She hisses.

“TONY!” He yells again.

Everyone comes.

She stares wide eyes and realises what he’s doing.

Steve arrives first, then Tony and Pepper.

“Tell them,” he challenges.

“Tell them what you told me.”

Natasha’s face flashes with fury and if Clint didn’t know her, he’d be worried.

“Tell us what, Nat?” Steve asks gently.

She shakes her head, and the lift dings.

Clint moves behind her.

“No,” he whispers for her to hear.

“You’d never believe me, so tell them, and let them know what you’re thinking.”

“Tell us, Nat,” Pepper tries, “maybe we can help? Maria can come if you need back up too?”

Natasha softens, always softens when Pepper is around.

Tony cocks his head.

“No more Irish goodbyes, Nat,” he surmises.

Clint nods imperceptibly at him.

“They're your friends, ask them if they think they’d be better off with you giving them distance, of being on the outer circle and not being their friend.”

Steve looks shocked.

“You believe that?”

Natasha doesn’t break eye contact with Clint.

He knows she won’t forgive this easily.

But maybe it’s worth it.

“You can’t believe that, Nat,” Pepper starts.

“You’re the only person… you’re the only one that actually gets what I mean when I rant about stark industries, or what about when we go walking on Friday mornings? Does it mean you don’t want to?”

She looks like she’s going to cry and Natasha immediately steps forward to help.

“No? I want to I just…”

“You don’t want to build the suits with me anymore?”

Tony fakes a sad face but the question is real.

“What about sparring with me?”

Clint knows they’re just as good as him at emotional blackmail.

And for that he’s thankful.

“It’s not what I mean,” she tries.

“I just.. I’m not who you think.”

He rolls his eyes.

“The black widow? You think you’re gonna kills us? We trust you. You’re not the scary Russian you think you are.”

She looks at him.

He waits to see her next move and it’s Pepper that takes her hand.

“Come on,” she offers.

“Stay.”

He hates that staying for her is the difficult thing. She doesn’t believe that this is her family, and they would go to the ends of the earth for her. He knows it’s a battle, and that he’ll have this conversation again and again, and sometimes she might believe him, and sometimes she won’t.

Maybe now it’s enough that she didn’t get on the lift, that Tony knows he’s stopping her from going. That Steve might talk to her when they sparring and that Maria will hear of this and try to dissuade her from running from social situations.

He’ll see.

He’ll watch as he always does.

He’ll convince her one day that she’s home and it’s okay to stay.

.

[deannamb]

An Human Disaster and a Pizza Dog

I totally haven’t draw this just because I want some pizza.. nope not at all.. Man, I’m a living stereotype, an italian who wants pizza…

Check my blog if you want to see more of my art.

[bumbledol]

Clint Barton!!

[mindtheexplodingplasma]

yay first post on tumblr!! i entirely made this account for nat and my little blackhill universe im finally sharing with the world yippee have some old sketches

[queerente]

mood

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest 2026

Day 5

(900words, warnings for talk of childhood neglect. Clint centric - but Clintasha. A/N - this was supposed to be a two parter with a story of both Clint and Natasha’s childhood with a kind adult, but alas, I ran out of time. So we only get Clint’s side. Maybe one day I’ll write Nats)

-

It’s a hard knock life.

“There was a woman,” Clint starts.

Natasha looks up from her phone, and notices his eyes dark.

“In my old neighborhood. I got home from school at 3 and she was always watering her plants.”

She feels it’s not the time to say anything but stares at him with rapt attention.

“It’s just occurred to me, that she was watching me come home everyday.”

He pauses on the thought.

“I’d be alone. I’d get home alone, and she’d… always be there, watering her plants, watching me get off the bus, wave and then, she’d go inside when I was.”

He stares at nothing and thinks.

“She was watching for me.”

Natasha turns to face him.

The television breaks the quiet but he’s thoughtful still.

She’s not sure what to say.

“Her name was Vera,” he offers.

She waits.

He turns to face her after a moment.

A sad smile is returned and she grabs his hand to give it a squeeze.

“Sometimes it’s the little things that people do for us that we don’t even recognise them at the time,” she thinks out loud.

He turns his attention back to the television, the show flashing brightly, casting light on their faces.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he replies.

She lets his hand go, and picks her phone up again.

“Would you ever go looking for her?”

Clint doesn’t answer.

She takes it as a no.

Moments pass and the tv drolls on.

He can’t stop thinking of her.

Always watering her plants, and then going back inside when he got home. Never interfering but always a kind face. A hello in the morning and when he arrived, sometimes a worried face.

He wonders if she ever did anything for his mum.

He never saw them together, but perhaps there was danger in that, given his father.

Would he look for her?

He grabs his phone, opens a game, trying to put it out of his mind.

He doesn’t need this.

It only takes a second before he has a browser open, searching her name. Her first name anyway, last known location.

It takes him down a rabbit hole.

He opens a database.

Then another.

It takes him five minutes.

“She’s dead,” he announces to Natasha.

He hears her sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she replies.

“Yeah.”

Fatigue hits him and he puts his phone on charge, kisses Natasha and rolls over, ready for sleep.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, to his turned back.

He’s not sure.

“Yeah,” he answers.

“Night, Nat,”

He feels her hand on the small of his back.

Reassuring, consistent.

“Night Clint.”

.

“She had a daughter,” Clint tells her the next night.

He was going to hold onto the information, thought about burying it, and leaving it alone.

It had only been a thought; a small part of his childhood.

He’s not sure why he was perseverating on it so much.

She made she he got home, nothing more.

But it meant something, even if he only realised it twenty years later.

He wanted to repay the favour, the kindness, whatever it was.

Natasha looks over, waiting for him to continue.

It takes a moment.

But for him she could wait all night.

“They live in Alaska now.”

She smiles.

“So not the most inaccessible place.”

“No,” he muses.

“What do you want to do?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

She leaves him in his silence. This time, it’s her that rests her head on his chest.

“We can visit, or send something like money? We can do nothing, or visit her grave?”

She closes her eyes.

“Think about it,” she yawns.

He sighs heavily.

“Yeah.”

“Night Clint,” she whispers.

“Night Nat,” he replies.

.

“I’ve sent them money,” he announces at dinner.

She pauses on her fried rice and nods.

“Under what guise?”

He shrugs.

“I just sent cash, and said that it was from a friend. Actually I sent a note to say that her mother was a good woman.”

Natasha continues to eat, and nods at the gesture.

“It sounds like she was.”

“It took me so long to figure that out,” he tells her quietly.

She snorts at him.

“How much of your childhood do you actually remember?”

Clint looks up, and gets her point straight away.

“Yeah, okay, hardly any of the small things. Other kids had good memories and fun and I had…”

He shrugs, letting the memories peter out.

“Sometimes, probably it will just be like this. Something happens and something will come back to you, and we cope with it then, good or bad. Just like we do with mine.”

He looks at her then.

The worry and reassurance.

“Yeah. Yes. It’s what we do.”

She eats and motions for him to do the same.

“It’s what we do.”

He sighs heavily, remembering her watering can.

Thanks Vera, he thinks and looks down at his own dinner.

“Thanks Nat,” he offers.

She waves it off.

“Hopefully you’ll get some sleep tonight,” she smiles.

He nods.

“I hope so.”

.

[novarion]

"I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest 2026

Day 4

(1.2k / warnings for depression / Nat-centric).

They were right, by the way. You have to dig yourself out of the grave over and over again.

.

Life feels heavy.

She still gets up, puts on her uniform, goes out and saves people; mostly from themselves. Follows the same routine, goes out with the others. Smiles. Laughs.

But.

It feels hollow.

In the moment, she copes.

In the moment, she enjoys herself.

But outside of that? Natasha reminds herself to breathe, to take a deep breath and get off the couch, move through the motions of living.

She’s well practiced at it.

It leaves her breathless and despondent but only when she’s alone.

“Somethings wrong,” she whispers to herself before bed.

Survival often feels like forcing herself to take a breath.

.

Unsurprisingly it’s Clint to pull her up on it.

“Are you okay?” he asks in the morning, handing her a coffee.

She nods, non-committal, and tries for a smile.

Fake enough for him to drop it.

She gets on with the day, paperwork, a meeting. Lunch with Maria.

All relatively easy things.

She manages the gym, stretches and listens to the same music.

Goes home, watches the same shows.

The comfort of it lulling her into relaxing.

The day is not a bad one.

The week is good.

She’s lived through so much worse.

She doesn’t know why she feels so heavy.

Natasha sleeps, as she always does.

No nightmares push past the veil.

She wakes and can’t stop thinking. It’s worse than having a nightmare wake her.

Thoughts go a mile a minute, continual, pressing, on things she’s done and has yet to do.

Showering helps, and routines. Exercise.

She’s fighting a losing battle.

Still Clint asks.

A cock to his head and frown.

“Are you okay?”

She nods.

Smiles.

He doesn’t return either.

Hands her a coffee and sighs.

“It’s okay you know, to not be okay. You don’t have to say you’re fine when you’re not.”

She snorts.

“Are you okay?” she replies.

“Some days,” he smiles.

Natasha likes that.

“Some days,” she repeats.

He walks with her to the gym, and points to the weights.

They move in ease of tandem.

“On the days you don’t?” he presses.

“On the days I don’t…” Natasha starts, laying down on the bench and testing the bars weight in her hand.

She considers lying.

Considers the question too.

“On the days that I don’t, I remember to breathe. I force myself to go through the motions of living.”

She pushes the weight off her body and pulls it closer again.

He stands behind her watching to make sure she can mange it.

“What else?”

“It’s not enough?”

“Maybe?”

She continues to push it up and down.

“I eat sweet things.”

He smiles.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She laughs.

“Who do you think taught me?”

Natasha finishes her set and they swap, reloading the bar with heavier weights.

“Something fizzy, sometimes.”

“Hard moments, doesn’t mean I get to write off the day.”

“No,” Clint agrees. “It doesn’t.”

He grunts in effort.

“It’ll pass,” she tells him.

“I think in moments like this, where there’s no crisis, no world ending crisis to deal with, it feels like I’m lost. And it spirals.”

She’s shocked at her own truths.

“Sometimes I worry I’m going to hurt someone. Hurt myself.”

It’s her greatest fear.

She doesn’t know why she’s saying it out loud.

“You won’t.”

Clint’s confidence makes her look down.

“How do you know?”

He grunts and does one more bench press, before sitting up and looking at her.

“Because I know you. You won’t because you know yourself better too. You wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t have strategies to ground yourself.”

Natasha shrugs.

She doesn’t quite believe that.

“I get scared, Clint.”

He voice shakes and she pulls weights off the bar to change it over.

He’s quiet.

She shakes it off, feeling slightly better at voicing the things that scare her the most.

The movement helps.

Maybe she can add that in too.

Movement.

“We all do, Nat. Maybe not of the same thing. But the fear is there.”

She shrugs and shakes it off.

“I’m okay Clint. They’re just moments and I need to remember that overall.”

She lays down and starts.

They don’t talk as they both finish their reps. They break away for cardio and reconnect to stretch and cool down.

“Maybe you should talk Barnett again,” he suggests.

She pauses mid stretch.

“Yeah, I will. I’m in Croatia for the next three weeks but I’ve booked in after that.”

Clint winces as he bends to touch his toes.

“Good.”

Sighing, Natasha stands.

“I’m okay Clint,” she confirms, for both him and herself. “Just not all the time.”

He laughs at that.

“None of us are, Nat. But if the sinking feeling is weighing us down, then sometimes we need some outside help.”

Spontaneously, she hugs him.

“I’ll see you in three weeks.”

He stands back and pulls her in for another hug.

“We’ve been through some pretty bad stuff, but we always land back on our feet,” he whispers.

She squeezes a little tighter, and lets him go.

“I’ll see you in three weeks,” she repeats.

.

It helps.

Work helps.

The sweetness of food.

The difference in location.

Breathing in, and out.

Forcing stillness when she can’t stop thinking.

Grounding herself to the here and now.

She finds that the way she treats herself matters.

Eating, drinking, sleeping.

It helps.

Barnett stares at her, her glasses on the tip of her nose as Natasha explains like she did to Clint, almost a month ago.

Things feel better now than they did then.

Not the best, but better.

“Why?” Asks the psychologist.

She shrugs.

“No, think about it. Why?”

Natasha frowns at the challenge.

“I don’t know.”

Barnett shakes her own head in response.

“I think you do, take ownership of it; Natasha.”

She’s right.

Natasha does know, but feels it’s the wrong answer.

“I did what I could.”

Barnett doesn’t answer.

Waits.

Natasha doesn’t like the silence. The expectation that comes from it.

“I used the strategies I have?”

It’s closer.

Barnett writes something and hands it over.

Natasha nods at the words written.

She folds it carefully.

“Natasha, we’ve known each other for a while now. I hope you know that strength isn’t only in our muscles. It’s in our minds too. Sometimes we can’t think it way out of things. Sometimes we have to ride through the moment. They don’t last. It might feel like they do, and often it’s easier for me to sit and preach that regulation is a series of tasks. It’s not. It’s working through the moments, finding what works. Sometimes we are good at it, sometimes not so much.”

Barnett waits, and Natasha meets her eyes.

“Keep going,” she assures.

She proceeds to run through checks, and Natasha answers honestly.

When the session ends she feels lighter, almost impossibly so.

Clint meets her at her apartment and like after every therapy session they head to the local burger place.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tentatively after ordering.

Natasha considers the question.

“Right now, I am,” she replies with a smile.

The truth of it holding true.

.

[firlalaith]

title: chapter eight of It All Started with a Big Bang

Rating: teen

fandom: project hail mary x marvel

characters: ryland grace, natasha romanoff, clint barton, rocky

summary: The journey to Tau Ceti's Petrova Line. And a discussion about colors.

a/n: ROY G BIV is a lie.

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85756696/chapters/234773356

@be-compromised

[honeyedpines]

hawkeye // hawk-guy

[miserablemisty]

Some drawings i did for a video 😋

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest 2026

Day 3

(1.2k / warnings for the Red Room nightmare (nondescript?) / Clint/Nat )

Lights go down. In the morning we’re lost and found.

“I can’t find it!”

Clint opens the third draw on her side of the bed, and stops.

The tiny pebble from the beach sits by itself.

She stands at the door in her underwear, tooth brush in her mouth as she stares.

He doesn’t expect her to laugh, but she does as she registers what’s in it.

“It reminds me of you,” she tells him.

“And the beach in New Zealand. The one with the rocks.”

He nods, remembering how they’d walked along it, months after New York, and it had been the first time he’d felt almost normal.

Maybe for her as well.

The smooth pebbles he found amongst the sand were horrible at skipping on the sea but they did make a satisfying plop.

He found a slightly larger one, a crack down the middle seemingly healed by the salt in the sea and he’d handed it to her.

He thought she’d thrown it into the sea, but here it lives, it’s obvious mark down the middle signifying it was indeed the same one.

“The cream for your itch is in the bathroom drawer; not mine,” she clarifies.

“Now put my rock back.”

He laughs, looking down at his arm where his rash itches.

“Which drawer again?”

She rolls her eyes and stalks off.

.

Socks pulled to knees is the only distinguishing feature of the boy as he runs fast amongst the crowd, Clint giving chase, even if only for the fun of it.

The circus tent feels smaller but he can’t pinpoint why.

“Rufus!”

The booming voice of the ringmaster stops the kid in his track and brings Clint to a skidding halt as well.

“What have you done, now?”

Rufus, stares at the floor.

Clint’s wallet is in his back pocket, but the strip of picture in the boys hand is what he really wants back.

Clint knows he probably shouldn’t have come.

The chance to see his brother though? That had changed it.

“Clint?”

He smiles, rubbing the back of his head and looking up at the old man.

“Hey,” he replies.

The boy looks between them.

“You know him?”

The ringmaster squats, points to Clint and takes the pictures from his hand.

“That boy was more of a handful than you, son.”

The boy frowns.

“Sure,” he replies, smartly.

“Now run away, before I tell you off for not picking your mark correctly and even more for being so slow that your mark caught up to you.”

The boy has a right to look chagrined, but instead nods and stares at Clint.

“Sit down,” the man directs with his staff.

“I’m looking for…”

Before Clint can even say Barney’s name the man cuts him off.

“He’s not here.”

“Henry,” Clint starts, “I know…”

Henry shakes his head, his beard flowing on his chin, and the hat slipping.

“It’s not about that son, he’s just not here. Come here.”

He leads Clint to the main tent, a small office to the side and left. He hands him back the photos and nods to them.

“Your brother isn’t here.”

Clint doesn’t answer.

“The boy, he does make me think of you, you know,” Henry tells him absently, “all spirit and not much sense.”

Clint thinks he’ll take it as a compliment.

It takes a moment longer before Clint’s handed a stack of papers.

“Up to date photos,” Henry tells him.

“Of your brother.”

Clint holds it up carefully.

He sees one of Barney holding one of the fire sticks.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

Henry shrugs.

“South Carolina, I heard, but he could be going north and just told us the wrong thing.”

Clint smirks, that would be like Barney.

“You’ll find him if you’re meant to,” the old man tells him, holding his beard and throwing it to the side.

Clint swallows at the kindness, unsure what to do with himself.

“Stay around, bring your girl. The show starts at 8.”

.

The nightmare morphs.

A slap.

A kick.

A breathless scream.

She can’t run.

Can’t hide.

There’s no one around, just the ghosts and incorporeal forms that she can’t hit, or kick or push away, as they storm her.

They can hurt her, but she can’t hurt them.

Nothing can.

Not here.

Fingers scratch up her arms, cold fingers on her legs.

“It made me think of you,” a voice whispers and a gun clatters, bullets falling out of the magazine that drops beside the black gun.

She looks around to find them gone and the gun growing in size.

She reaches out to hold it.

Small hands, big gun.

“It made me think of you,” a voice whispers in her ear, trees sprouting from the ground rising around her.

She’s surrounded.

Not by girls.

By a forest, the trees around, leaning towards her, she holds the gun confidently, but there’s nothing to shoot.

She raises it above her head.

One shot.

Above her head.

And blood around her.

It’s raining down.

She swipes at her body.

It’s not hers

The ground is bleeding.

No, not the ground.

A body.

A girl.

A shot that wasn’t supposed to be a bullet but a toy.

The gun clatters beside her and she falls to her knees.

She knows this girls face.

She knows the gun better.

The girl is a sea in the face of the dead.

“I know you,” she tells her offhandedly.

The girl smiles.

“I know.”

The gun is in her hand.

The safety back on.

Ghosts swirl and disappear.

Sweat drips from her face.

It can’t be real.

She tries to hold a memory but it’s elusive and she pushes through the fog of sleep.

Clint’s snoring grounds her into the present.

Natasha sighs.

The night is lost.

She checks her guns.

Thinks of Hannah, the remnants of a loaded gun in her hand and sighs.

.

“Wait.”

Natasha thinks she sees something up his sleeve, the bulge there and then disappeared.

Grabbing his arm, she stops him walking.

“Waaait,” she tries again.

This time there isn’t anything when she checks.

She narrows her eyes.

“Show me,” she challenges.

He grins.

“And if I don’t?”

She considers the challenge and lifts his arm away from his body, and to his shock, tickles him.

“Whaaat- Nat! Stop!”

He laughs as he pulls away and giggles uncharacteristically.

She pursues, going for the other armpit and ribs and hears the rustling in his shirt.

“Stooop,” he laughs, as she frisks him and finds the green Polo packet, the minty English candy.

He pulls them out and shows her.

“They reminded me of you,” he smiles.

The small corner store in Kettering had been just big enough to hide in, away from the ominous helicopter overhead. They’d bought half the shop before leaving, much to the shopkeepers delight.

In the hotel, they’d had a taste test of everything; considering it and rating it.

Natasha had rated the Polos as superior and Clint had laughed at her for it.

“They’re mint.”

“So?”

“Who chooses the mint candy?”

She’d smiled.

He hadn’t known what it reminded her of, but now the green candy was his go to for a surprise.

“For me?” she asks, taking it off him.

“For us,” he replies, taking it back.

.

[themculibrary]

Blind Masterlist 2

part one

a deaf person, a blind person and a mute walk into… matt murdock’s apartment?! (ao3) - deathofthedandelions bucky/clint T, 4k

Summary: peter and kate somehow convince matt, clint and bucky to bake them cookies. chaos ensues.

A Different Kind of Mask (ao3) - aloneintherain N/R, 1k

Summary: “So, you remember the plan, right?” Matt whispered. The sirens in the distance picked up, the sounds of the police officers on foot growing louder.

“You’re blind and I’m just a scared teenager,” Peter said back, nodding. “Got it.”

A Parent’s Burden (ao3) - Marv-with-a-v (Marv_aka_Kitten_Writes) G, 1k

Summary: How do you set up an Easter egg hunt for a blind child? The same way you do for a sighted child, only with a little more creativity. But with every egg Matt finds, Jack finds a little something himself: hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to turn out okay.

Blind Devil and Deaf Hawk - what could go wrong? (ao3) -  42donotpanic clint/matt E, 20k

Summary: 31 (hopefully) Alternative Universes, all featuring my favourite human disasters: Clint Barton and Matt Murdock aka. the Dumpsterbros.

Some of these will be purely platonic, some will have other relationships, and some will have HawkDevil.

But all will have a lot of chaos, pain, and stupid ideas.

blind guys are vigilantes now (ao3) - rhythm_and_sound matt/foggy, steve/tony G, 8k

Summary: Steve Rogers meets the mysterious Devil of Hell’s Kitchen one night on a jog.

And then Nat meets him too, under completely different circumstances.

And then the others do as well. Except Tony, the only one hellbent on meeting Daredevil.

Blind Sense (ao3) - LachesisMeg G, 1k

Summary: When Matt does get hit by a car. Five times she could tell he was blind. And one more she didn’t tell him about.

close my eyes (that I might see) (ao3) - Rheanna layla/steven/marc E, 39k

Summary: First came the triffids: a new type of plant, able to move around on its roots and equipped with a lethal sting. Then came the lights – a mysterious global event that left everyone who witnessed it permanently blind. When human beings lost their sight, they also lost their single biggest evolutionary advantage over the triffids, and the world changed forever…

Layla El-Faouly is a survivor in this new, harsh world. When she is stung by a triffid and left temporarily blind, she is forced to accept help from a group of three strangers – Marc Spector, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley.

Layla survived the apocalypse by following one rule: trust no one. And as her feelings for her rescuers deepen, so do her suspicions that they’re keeping something from her. But Marc, Steven and Jake don’t have anything to hide. Or do they?

Daredevils Don’t Drink Decaf (ao3) - orphan_account matt/foggy T, 20k

Summary: “I really, really want to make a joke about bats and blindness. Will you punch me if I make a joke about bats and blindness?” Matt shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, so we’re Superspud and Blind-As-A-Batman.”

In which Foggy uses his law degree to peddle coffee to unsuspecting caffeine junkies, and Matt is his favorite customer. Who may or may not be Batman.

Double Blind (ao3) - smilebackwards matt/foggy T, 2k

Summary: Matt comes to, flat on his back, with Iron Man and Hawkeye hovering over him. “Oh fuck,” Stark says, less than comfortingly.

Five times the Avengers didn’t notice Daredevil is blind and one time they did (ao3) - TeamRocket9 T, 9k

Summary: Daredevil was the guardian of Hell’s Kitchen. Daredevil knew everything that happened inside his city. But sometimes he didn’t recognize the people involved. It’s not like he can see their faces, ok? Give the man a break.

AKA a self-indulgent fic in which Matt meets the og Avengers and they’re all friends and it ends in an identity reveal because I love that specific genre of fics

Flying Blind (ao3) - Eden Pierce (ChunChan11) steve/tony, bucky/natasha, clint/phil T, 4k

Summary: Tony looses his sight but not his hopes Steve looses hope ...

friendship is the breathing rose (ao3) - wintervioleteye (hawkguyed) clint/phil, kate/eli T, 718

Summary: Kate Bishop is the new girl at the DPD. Clint is the friendly but blind tech. That's not all there is to it though. (Covert Affairs AU).

I Would Give Anything to See You Smile Again (ao3) - nerdyheart15 clint/phil N/R, 2k

Summary: When he touches Clint’s shoulder gently to tell him that he isn’t alone anymore the younger man goes completely still. Then like every night since Clint was released Phil wraps his arms around Clint from the behind. Usually Clint and him would sit under the water for what felt like hours, but tonight was different. There was a desperate feel to the air and the moment Phil wraps his arms around Clint, the archer lashes out. He screams at first, his arms are flailing and his legs are kicking at air, but Phil refuses to let go. He’s been waiting for the breakdown.

The trigger was Clint’s appointment that morning, when the last source of hope SHIELD had for returning Clint’s sight told him it was impossible.

Leave None to Draw Asunder (ao3) - Whisp clint/natasha N/R, 7k

Summary: His one saving grace is his aim. Sharp, deadly, and merciless. He’s SHIELD’s weapon to wield. A battering ram made to be splintered and broken. The minute he ceases to be useful, he‘s gone.

Love is Blind (ao3) - elle1991 clint/natasha T, 14k

Summary: After a mission goes horribly wrong, Natasha Romanoff is left completely blind. Whilst SHIELD scientists desperately seek a cure, Natasha struggles to come to terms with her disability. With boyfriend Clint Barton by her side, can she come to terms with a world without sight?

put your head on my shoulder (ao3) - bonusholegent, josephines-journal (petewentzbignaturals) T, 2k

Summary: Steve and Peggy are about to have their first child. The joys and troubles of new parenthood await. When they learn baby James is blind, they learn to see from a new perspective.

Senses (ao3) - MakotosFreckles steve/tony E, 2k

Summary: Meanwhile, back at the ranch(aka Steve's house): Tony's drunk, and so is Steve but Tony's drunker and Steve smells like pies and he's warm

The Deaf Leading the Blind (ao3) - whitchry9 T, 3k

Summary: Fury wants to know how Clint and Matt ended up in the middle of an armed art theft in Russia. So Clint tells him, perhaps embellishing the story only slightly.

[firlalaith]

@be-compromised